Growing up again
by Merthergirl
Summary: Sherlock's experiment goes wrong and he accidentally babyfies himself and a few others! Will they have to wait years to grow up or are Sherlock's predictions correct? either way, why are Mycroft and Anthea saddled with the brats?
1. Chapter 1

Growing up again

Sherlock watched as the acid slowly trickled from the vial into the flask, eyes pinned to the languid convulsions the indigo liquid used to move. As it landed at the bottom of the flask it sizzled, its heat reacting with the cool glass, before going a lighter lilac and slowing to a still. Grinning at his success, the detective rummaged through the corpse's stomach in a grotesque way that would make a pathologist sick, before withdrawing a small sample of some of the poison. Mixing the two together and enjoying the bubbly reaction, Sherlock made a few notes and took a sip of his coffee. "You shouldn't-" Molly protested slightly about his drinking in the lab, but he waved her away. She nodded and scurried off.

"If I'm correct…" Sherlock said, talking to himself more than John, who was leaning against the doorframe, "This should cause the subject to go back to aged one."

"Why would you want to do that?" John asked, ignoring the phone ringing beside him.

"Experience?" Sherlock suggested, "It only lasts a small period of time."

"I see." Said John as the detective slowly poured the now slowly bubbling violet mixture into a test tube, watching as a pallid fizz crept its way to the top of the glass container before stilling and resting there, as if taunting the detective. Sherlock smiled and continued to pour more of the liquid in despite John's protests. There was angry fizzing and then a bang.

….. ONE…

Groaning, John tried to sit up, but something was weighing him down. It was soft to the touch but heavy, and smelt familiar as he tried to push the beige material off him. It took him a few moments to realise he was no longer wearing his jumper or trousers. His under wear seemed to have grown into a kind of short-type thing. What was going on? He tried to call out, but all the emerged was a sort of… gurgle…

"John?" a.. baby? Asked, and the massive thing was removed to reveal an adorable wide-eyed boy with midnight black curls- and a lot of them- sticking up all over his head. John realised what had happened. Sherlock had babyfied them!

"Sher-" John struggled to speak again before smacking Sherlock in the face in anger. The boy in front of teared up, lip wobbling. Feeling sorry, John reached out a pudgy hand and ruffled Sherlock's curls. Sherlock eyes told him it was going to be okay before the raven-haired boy toddled away, grabbing his pink phone and dialling. As he gurgled into the receiver, John crawled out from underneath his jumper and watched the door, as a small figure was now visible. A little girl his age with short brown hair took a few shaky steps towards them before falling, wailing slightly. Molly. He crawled to her and patted her knee as best he could, frustrated with his one-year-old body already.

"Mycroft…" Sherlock managed to say before looking immensely proud of himself. John and Molly sat beside him on the floor, Molly in her knickers as if they were shorts and both boys in their underwear in the same fashion. Sherlock had kept his scarf on though, John noticed with a smile.

The door smashed open and a very angry looking group of toddlers entered, half crawling half walking. The girl had a dark skin tone and sticking-up dreadlocks, John recognised her as a very pissed off baby Donavon. The boy holding her hand was no doubt Anderson, and the other being a very scared Lestrade, wide eyes welling with confused tears. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock murmured something that sounded like, "Not my fault" before yelling HELP down the phone. There was a gun shot, and all the toddlers whipped around to see a very psychotic toddler wielding a gun and holding a Westwood suit above the ground, preventing any dirt from ruining it.

"SHERLOCK!" Moriarty said with no difficulty whatsoever and ran over, leaping on the curly-haired boy and punching him, "YOUR FAULT! YOUR FAULT!"

John and the others watched in shock, not only at the fight but how advanced in speech and movements Sherlock and Moriarty were.

:D

Anthea passed the phone to Mycroft, a confused smile on her beautiful face, "It's your brother."

"My brother?" Mycroft practically skipped to the phone and put it to his ear, "Hello Sherlock. Are you alright?"

"Mycroft… come… quick… we've been made into… babies…" Sherlock managed. Mycroft frowned, wondering how on earth Sherlock had put on that voice.

"Where are you?"

"Work." Sherlock said before shrieking something at someone down the line.

:D

Moriarty pouted and placed his suit on the counter, "Fix it."

"Can't. have to wait." Sherlock stuck out his tongue and crossed his chubby arms in a way John found adorable. Adorable enough to make him cuddle the boy, so he did so, kissing his cheek. Why not be brave? He thought, Sherlock couldn't do anything now. To his surprise Sherlock grinned and blushed before clearing his throat and climbing onto the counter.

"K. everyone. I'm sorry, I made you baby. Mycroft is coming to look after us till we get big."

"How long?" Lestrade managed after a small silence, wiping his eyes.

"We should age a year a day." Sherlock said, looking proud of himself once more and climbing down.

"Sherlock?" Mycroft's footsteps and voice made all of them jump and hurry to the door. Anthea swung it open and gasped, eyes widening and mouth opening in shock of the babies. Mycroft's reaction was pretty much the same. "Oh my goodness." He said, "What do we do?"

Anthea smiled and lifted Anderson up, "We look after them of course."

**Please review! The next chapter will be longer and better written, I promise. I'm sorry, rushed this chapter a bit :P**


	2. Chapter 2

Growing up again

**Please read and review love you lots!**

Two

Moriarty had been spying on Sherlock when the explosion happened. Cursing himself, Jim curled into a ball and began to rethink his life. Failure. He was a failure. His only goal in life was to prove he was smarter then someone he barely knew. And he'd basically failed. Tears welled in his eyes but the toddler wiped them away before anyone could see them.

"And who are you then?" Anthea asked, kneeling on the ground in front of him. he pouted and frowned, crossing his arms in rebellion. Anthea giggled, "Okay, we've got a character here." She lifted him up gently and held him close. Jim blew a few of her curls out his face and slowly lowered his head onto her shoulder, feeling unusually tired and unexpectedly comfortable.

"Aaw he's asleep." Anthea said quietly to Mycroft as he walked back into the room, having dropped Sherlock and John in the limo he'd called for. He'd also called for 7 car seats to be installed and 7 cots to be placed in a spare bedroom in his house, deciding that until they grew up he'd have to look after them.

"Aaw this one comes with a suit and gun!" Anthea giggled, carrying Moriarty into the limo outside the building. Mycroft sighed and lifted Anderson and Donavon up, getting ready to carry them into the limo.

"Wait!" Geoff yelped, tears rolling down his chubby face, "Don't l-leave." He sobbed. Mycroft put the other two down and lifted Lestrade in his arms, ruffling his hair. The boy cuddled closer, wiping his tears and falling into a comforted sleep.

"Why wasn't Sherlock as easy to comfort as you lot are?" Mycroft asked, taking Lestrade to the car.

Sherlock stared at John, "You kiss me." He stated. John nodded, blushing. "Why?"

"I…" John struggled to fit the words together before shaking his head. Sherlock frowned and watched as Mycroft approached the car, cradling Lestrade and Anthea opening the car door. They both stared in curiosity as she strapped the sleeping Moriarty in his seat, "Is that…" John started, struggled and gave up. Sherlock nodded, before reaching over John and giving Moriarty a swift punch in the side. The other boy awoke with a tiny scream and a disgruntled sound before his leg whipped out, catching Sherlock's ankle. John sighed as they started to fight over him, knowing that soon one of them was going to slip and-

"OW!" john yelped, glowering at the other two and rubbing his arm. Anthea sighed and moved Moriarty along a seat, placing a half-awake Lestrade in his place. Lestrade looked at John and Sherlock questioningly before sticking his thumb in his mouth and turning away to examine Moriarty. Mycroft slotted Donavon, Anderson and Molly into the other seats in the back of the limo and slumped into the spare chair next to them, Anthea leaping into the front with the driver.

"Fuck." Anderson said, looking extremely proud of himself before Mycroft gave him a look and his smile disappeared. Donavon rolled her eyes and glowered at Sherlock, "You-" she struggled to pronounce the profanity, before she grinned and muttered, "Freak."

"Shut up." Sherlock snapped, rubbing at a bruise on his leg from where Moriarty had kicked him.

"We need clothes for them." Mycroft stated to Anthea, who smiled,

"Ahead of you there, sir. Clothes have been ordered."

"Good." Mycroft sighed, and picked up his newspaper.

"Sir?" He turned to see the girl with mousy brown hair peering at him from her seat,

"Yes… umm…"

"Molly Hoo- Hoo-" she frowned, "Per. Molly Hoo-Per." She looked triumphant.

"Alright, yes, Molly?"

"Wh-" she looked distressed as unintelligible sounds spilled from her mouth. "Wher-WHERE a-are we" she started to cry, frustrated.

"We're going to my house." Mycroft said calmly despite the fact he was strangling them all in his mind already.

"Cool!" Anderson exclaimed, grinning.

They seemed to be more developed then most one year olds, especially Sherlock and Moriarty, but Sherlock had never really been a child, Mycroft smiled, he'd always been too smart for his own good. "You idiot!" Jim said suddenly, "I don't wanna be a baby!"

"Piss off." Sherlock said with a smile, "Bomb boy."

"Fuck you!"

"Whoa babies gone wild!" Anthea giggled, "Hush children."

"I wanna go home!" Molly suddenly started wailing, and Lestrade joined in her tears, placing his head in his hands. Mycroft scowled. Anderson started to whimper as Donavon groaned, John trying not to cry and Sherlock and Moriarty hurled insults at one another.

"BE QUIET!" Mycroft yelled, silencing them all. He straightened his tie and jacket, "Now, this isn't permanent. So just stick it out, like I'm having to."

The rest of the car journey was spent in near silence. Mycroft sighed and stared at Sherlock quietly, watching the way the toddler drifted slowly off to sleep holding John's pudgy hand, and the way the other boy's head rested on the other's shoulder as he slept. It was adorable. Though Mycroft would never admit it. he couldn't coo over babies in his position. Especially not when he needed to help them.

"They're cute, aren't they?" Anthea asked, lifting Moriarty from his car seat and smoothing out his hair.

"Mm." Mycroft said, lifting Molly from her seat and straightening her nappy, "Should we find them some clothes?"

"We've ordered some already." Anthea said.

"NO." Moriarty said, crossing his little arms. "Not wearing it." the denim dungerees and plain white t-shirt did not appeal to him.

"You sure?" Anthea smiled, "It's Westwood."

"Westwood?" the little boy peered at the outfit again. Actually, it wasn't too shabby. Quite nice, actually, "Okay."

Anthea chuckled.

"Thank you." Molly said quietly as Mycroft helped her into the new dress. Donavon practically leapt into her new clothes. Anderson frowned at the shorts and t-shirt but let Anthea slide him into them. Lestrade's face lit up when he saw the playsuit presented to him.

Sherlock, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt (plus his scarf) snuggled into John's new jumper sleepily.

Mycroft relaxed into the sofa, watching the babies struggle to crawl and walk around the room. They were all cute, no doubt and very well spoken. It was strange, but he felt oddly attached to them all, even Moriarty.

"I feel like a dad." Mycroft realised.

**Please review :D**


	3. Chapter 3

Three

**Please read and review :D**

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

"*&/$%£!"

"Sir! Language! The children might-"

"Which one is it? which one is crying!"

"How should I know?"

"You know everything! Where's the light?"

"I don't know!"

"I think it's one of the boys!"

"Really? I thought it was a girl!"

"Just find the brat!"

"Here he is!"

Mycroft found the light. When it flicked on Anthea saw that she was holding a sobbing Geoff Lestrade. He had aged during the night, to about 2 years old.

"Hey baby." She smiled, shhing him and holding him close. The others started to wail at the sudden light.

"Oh jesus." Mycroft said, running a hand through his hair before running downstairs, "I know! Milk! I'll get them milk!"

"Warm!" Anthea called, lying Geoff back in his cradle and going to a weeping Molly. The others weren't crying- just whimpering- but she would still have to care for them in a minute.

Mycroft stood by the microwave, wishing he could magic the milk warm as he waited for it to heat, one bottle at a time. "SIR! THEY'RE CRYING!"

Mycroft chuckled, imagining Anthea as a mum. She'd be brilliant. Pausing, he realised how slightly messed up that thought was. He was her boss.

"Hey! Calm down!" Mycroft laughed, handing each baby a bottle. Anthea groaned and slumped down on the floor.

"My job doesn't cover this, sir." She laughed.

"I know. But look, you're still here." Mycroft said, leaning on the nearest crib and watching Sherlock cuddle the milk close as he drank.

"Hey Sherlock." Mycroft cooed. The toddler's half-open eyes met his and for a moment Mycroft didn't care about anything else. He gently took his brother's hand and grinned when Sherlock rolled his eyes and grasped his back.

The camera flash made him jump, "That's going to be my screensaver!" Anthea giggled.

"What? Delete it"  
>"Hell no!" Anthea giggled, sending the photo to her computer.<p>

"Do you ever put that phone away?" Mycroft smiled fondly.

"Yes… when I sleep." Anthea grinned.

"Mycroft?" John spoke in a sleepy whisper, "I want a… cuddle."

"Cuddle?" Mycroft repeated looking at the toddler. Anthea nodded in encouragement. He licked his lips nervously before reaching in and lifting John under the arms and holding him close. The blond toddler tucked his head into Mycroft's shoulder and went to sleep almost instantly. Mycroft stroked the boy's hair tenderly and glanced at Anthea in sudden happiness. She smiled. She'd never seen him smile like that before.

"Well done Sherlock." She smiled, when Mycroft left the room to get a pleading Anderson a cookie, "Your mistake has opened a new door for Mycroft. Maybe some day he'll actually be a father."

"His poor kid." Sherlock said cheekily, and she smacked his hand lightly.

"Don't be rude." She winked, "Night."

"Night."

**Okay, I know it was short :P please review! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

Growing up again 4 :D

**Oh, I'm going to write a series of fanfictions as a sort of advent calendar this Christmas, if you want it to be written with scenes from the Sherlock fandom please vote on my profile :D thanks!**

**Please read and review, and thanks to everyone for doing so!**

"This is hell." Mycroft grumbled, as he struggled to hold the squirming Sherlock and Moriarty apart.

"It's not too bad." Anthea cooed as she cuddled the sleeping Donavon and Molly. Mycroft gaped, "Hey! How come you get the e-easy jobs?" Just as he finished speaking Moriarty bit his finger and lunged at Sherlock, screaming something incomprehensible. "No!" he yelped, trying to rip the toddler- who had developed an irish accent- off his younger brother.

John and Lestrade stood in the doorway of the nursery, hands gripped in one another's and the other hand in their mouths, sucking their thumbs as they watched with worry. "Want to play with the cars?" Anderson asked from where he was sitting at the other side of the room, chubby hands gripping two red cars on a track.

Mycroft's best guest room had been transformed into a nursery. Already the carpet was stained with felt tip and the walls scribbled over, and a distinctive smell of nappies and baby wipes filled the entire house.

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Moriarty shrieked, punching Sherlock repeatedly in the face with his little fists.

"I hate you more!" Sherlock yelled, Tears streaming down his now bruised face as he pinched the other boy, who cried out.

"Stop it! Stop it!" John shouted, toddling over and trying to help Mycroft. Lestrade and Anderson joined them, grabbing at Moriarty's dungarees and pulling back, finally heaving the angry boy off the other.

"You bastard!" Moriarty yelled, as the other toddlers held him back and Mycroft lifted Sherlock gently off the ground, "I don't wanna be a baby!" tears fell from his eyes, "I don't want to be a baby! I don't…" He sunk to the ground, exhausted with the effort to keep his mind fully functioning in a body that didn't seem to understand.

Sherlock sighed, panting and turning into Mycroft, resting his forehead on his shoulder and trying to stop crying. Mycroft sighed in relief and pulled the toddler close, feeling how fast his little heart was beating.

"Not fair." Moriarty whimpered, "It's not fair." Mycroft paused, looking at the little boy before reaching out another arm and gesturing for a cuddle. Moriarty hesitated, before hurrying into his arms, sobbing. He didn't know why he found so much comfort in the older Holmes' brother, but he did.

Lestrade, John and Anderson went to play with the cars, feeling very successful.

"Aaaw." Anthea cooed.

:3

"You know sir, I think they may need some fresh air." Anthea suggested as they watched the children chase each other around the nursery.

"Yes. You're probably right." Mycroft said, "Call for a car, will you? We'll take them to the park."

"Why not walk?" Anthea smiled, a somehow hopeful smile on her face.

A few minutes later Mycroft found himself clinging onto the reigns of four troublesome toddlers: Molly Hooper, who was trying to go back inside, ashamed of her new body and lack of grace; Sherlock Holmes, who was trying to attack Moriarty; John Watson, who was wailing something incomprehensible about wanting jam and Anderson, who was sulking, wanting to go in the limo and therefore refusing to walk. Beside him Anthea struggled against the other three- Moriarty, who was tormenting poor Sherlock, Lestrade who was trying to run after a cute rabbit he'd seen dart through the bushes and Donavon, who was trying to touch her toes and refusing to move until she had done so.

"Why not walk?" Mycroft mimicked, glowering at his assistant, who gave the same expression back.

"Hey, this is not in my job description! Besides, I have a plan." She whistled, causing all seven kids to whip around and look at her, "Kids! Unless you are good you will not get an ice-cream!"

"No!" they all shrieked.  
>"Then walk along nicely." Anthea ordered. They all did so, silencing almost instantly. Anthea grinned, turning to look with a smirk at her boss over her shoulder, "And that, Sir, is how to do it."<br>"Shut up." Mycroft smiled, nudging John forward gently as they rounded the bend to the park.

"Yay!" Anderson cheered as they reached the park. Swings, slides, roundabouts and climbing frames greeted them. Mycroft swallowed, hundreds of hazards screaming at him.

"Be careful." He found himself saying to all the toddlers as he undid their reigns.

"Aaaw." Anthea grinned, "Sir, you suit being a father."

"Thank you." Mycroft said quietly, standing and straightening his tie bashfully. Anthea tucked the reigns into her pockets and withdrew her phone, fingers tapping on the keys. Mycroft smiled. It was slightly comforting to know that, even during parenthood, old habits never died. Wait… what? Parenthood? They weren't parents. Mycroft swallowed and turned away, in case Anthea could sense what he was thinking.

"Hello!" A young, blonde woman grinned, coming over. She was in late pregnancy, holding the reigns of a curly blonde girl, and seemed to want to talk babies with them, "Which ones are yours?"

Mycroft cleared his throat, "That boy, that boy, that boy, that girl, that boy, that girl and him."

"Seven!" she exclaimed, then turned to look curiously at Anthea's slim physique.

"Adopted." Anthea smiled, "I can't have children."

Mycroft gaped. He hadn't been aware of that. Why was that… disappointing to him? it wasn't like they could have had a family anyway, after this was over, but…

"Oh. I'm sorry!" the woman said.

"No, it's fine." Anthea smiled, grasping Mycroft's hand like a wife would, stroking his palm with her thumb.

"Well it's nice to see that's working out for you." The woman grinned.

It was then that Moriarty yelled, loud and clear, "YOU FUCKING BASTARD SHERLOCK HOLMES!" and leapt on the other boy, pushing them both of the climbing frame down onto the ground. Anthea shrieked and hurried over, Mycroft close behind.

**Please review :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Five

**:D thanks for reading and reviewing, and don't forget to review and vote on my poll :D **

**And if you like Mycroft as a dad, check out my story 'Mummy Mycroft' **

"Are you alright?" Anthea asked, cradling a sobbing Moriarty close. Mycroft lifted Sherlock and kissed his cheek and ruffled his curls. The toddlers cried and nodded, clinging onto the respective adult.

"Oh goodness!" the woman said, "You two are a bit hellish, aren't ya. My first born's just the same."

"Fuck off." Moriarty snapped, "I am a lot higher then your brat."

"Jim!" Anthea shrieked, "I am so sorry miss-"

"Don't bother!" The woman snapped, clutching her daughter and storming off.

"Don't be so rude!" Anthea scolded, to which Moriarty snorted.

"Okay… play nice." Mycroft said, thanking god for the soft play-park floor and letting go of a newly hyper Sherlock.

"Aaaw." Anthea smiled, helping Moriarty to his feet and watching him scramble away, sprinting after Sherlock.

"So." Mycroft said, as casual as possible as they stood, "You can't have children, huh?"

"N… no, sir." Anthea said quietly, as if ashamed of it, "I tried and tried with my ex-husband to have a baby, but found after three years that I have an inhospitable womb. He left me the next day." She turned away, lip trembling; in hope that by looking into the distance she could blink back the tears. Mycroft swallowed. He wanted to comfort her, but couldn't figure out how without making her feel uncomfortable. After all, there were a few boundaries he knew he shouldn't cross.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Mycroft said instead, quietly, as they both returned to watching the children play.

"It's okay." Anthea muttered, shifting on her toes and clearing her throat, "Um, sir I'm going to go to the toilet, if that's okay."

"Of course." Mycroft said, watching her hurry away and wincing as he heard a sniff that signalled her tears.

"It's not nice when that happens." He turned to see Lestrade, sitting cross-legged on the metal seat of the bench beside him.

"Mmm." He replied, to which Lestrade smiled,

"You two could still adopt."

Mycroft cleared his throat, "We're not a couple, you know."

"Really?" Lestrade looked astonished, "That's too bad."

Mycroft sighed and patted his head, "Come on, I think we should take you lot home."

"Can we have ice cream first?" Geoff asked hopefully, eyes pleading.

"I…" Mycroft sighed, thinking about his wallet in dread but stopping as soon as he saw Lestrade's slightly crumpled face, "Fine."

…

Moriarty grinned as he finished his ice-cream, licking the remains of his mint-choc-chip delight off his face. He frowned as he discovered he couldn't reach it all, and tried to focus, crossing his wide eyes. Mycroft chuckled and wiped it off for him with his hankie.

Anthea tutted as Sherlock leaned over and took a bite from John's ice-cream, winking cheekily at the other toddler before he could protest. John sighed and licked half-heartedly at the last drops of his vanilla scoop. Sherlock, who had finished his chocolate ice-cream, started to drift off to sleep.

Lestrade had finished his strawberry ice-cream and was now explaining, as best he could, to Donavon, Molly and Anderson why the taste was so much better then their coconut, toffee and banana flavoured cones.

Mycroft smiled and leant back in the bench. The sun had just begun to set on the horizon, causing the sky to go a pinky-colour, and it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. Perhaps the other most beautiful thing was sitting beside him, curls illuminated in the light, a smile on her pretty face.

"Shall we walk them home, sir?" she grinned. He nodded, silently, and they reattached the children to their reigns.

…

All of the toddlers went to sleep rather quickly and willingly, to both Mycroft and Anthea's surprise. To their great disappointment, however, it didn't last.

"I'M HUNGRY!" Molly shrieked. Anthea nodded, "I'll get her."

"I NEED THE TOILET!" Anderson yelled, "I'll get him." Mycroft said.

"I WANT TO GROW UP!" Moriarty sobbed.

"Crybaby." Sherlock taunted through the bars of the next crib.

"SHUT UP!" Moriarty squealed, leaping at him, reaching through the bars and strangling him.

"Stop it!" John and Lestrade yelled.

Mycroft groaned.

…

When Anthea opened her eyes she was lying on the sofa, head resting on the shoulder of her boss, who was also asleep. In his arms lay his little brother, also sleeping, and on the opposite side to her Anderson and Donavon lay curled together. In her arms, she realised, lay a slumbering John Watson, his right hand grasped around Sherlock's and his left on Lestrade's shoulder. Lestrade lay in the gap between her folded legs and the back of the sofa, Molly curled in a ball beside him. Moriarty was by their feet, on the floor, where he'd insisted on lying, sucking his thumb in his sleep.

It was one of the nicest feelings she'd ever had. She remembered when she and her husband had dreamed about this moment, cuddled up with children. It had seemed so far away then and now… it was here. But of course, it couldn't last very long.

Moriarty stirred and wailed when he realised he was on the floor. Anthea giggled and lifted him onto her lap. He had grown overnight- they all had- into three year olds. She smiled, "Your just a softie, really, aren't you?" Moriarty glowered at her, but didn't object to the accusation. She grinned and kissed the top of his head. He looked at her before asking, "What did you do to my suit?"

"We put in storage darling, don't worry."

"That lady was stupid at the park." Moriarty said, to which Anthea laughed.

"Oh you are a little devil, aren't you?"

"Yep." Moriarty beamed.

Anthea pulled him closer, carefully moving john to join Sherlock on Mycroft's lap. Almost instantly they cuddled each other close, Sherlock kissing John's cheek lovingly in his half-sleeping state.

Anthea smiled as she realised she felt like a mum, for the first time in her life.

**Please review, and don't forget to vote on the poll on my profile **


	6. Chapter 6

Six!

**Thanks for reading and reviewing ^_^**

**Please review, it really makes my day when you do! **

Sherlock hated himself for this. Not only was he small, chubby and unable to do even the most simple deductions, but now he had to rely on Mycroft or Anthea to do everything. He despised that. Sitting in the darkness wide awake in a cot too small for him since he'd aged to being four, he wished he'd never done that stupid experiment in the first place. He let go a sob into the silence of the night.

"Sherlock?" John's voice startled him: it was so much clearer now they'd aged. He sounded more like… well, John.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't cry." John pushed his arm through the bars between their cribs and grasped Sherlock's hand.

"Sorry." Sherlock muttered, "I am sorry John."

"For what?" John asked.

"This mess." Sherlock said.

"Don't worry!" John giggled, gesturing for Sherlock to move away from the bars. He then climbed over the bars and into Sherlock's crib, where he hugged the other, "I still love you."

Sherlock smiled and went to sleep.

…

Mycroft sighed and slumped onto the bed covers, laughing slightly at how exhausted he was. Anthea, giggling, threw herself on the other side of the soft duvet and stared at the ceiling, panting slightly. For a while there was a silence as they stared at the ceiling. Mycroft slid his eyes to the side and peered at the woman, who didn't notice. She smiled and said, "I hate kids."

They both laughed, before she propped herself up onto one elbow and grinned at him, "Well. Not really. But they are little buggers."

Mycroft copied her and nodded in agreement.

"Just bloody kiss her already." Moriarty's little voice made both adults jump and turn to look at him, "And get us beds. I'm so cramped in here."

Anthea laughed and leapt over her boss to lift the boy out the bars. Mycroft stayed where he was and watched her cuddle the boy despite his protests. So cute. Wait- he meant the kids. Obviously. Kids were cute, not Anthea. Anthea was his efficient assistant. Not his cute girlfriend or wife. Clearing his throat, the man sat up and announced he was getting the kids some breakfast as dawn began to break in the sky. Anthea smiled over her shoulder and placed Moriarty on the ground, where he instantly hurried off to the castle play set.

When Mycroft brought up the breakfast trays Sherlock and Moriarty had engaged in combat. Thousands of tin soldiers lined the nursery, and the babies commanded them in a war. Sherlock, John, Lestrade and Molly wore blue bibs to signify they were on the same team and Moriarty, Anderson, Donavon and Anthea wore pink to show they were on the other.

"Hello Sir." She beamed, moving forward a small regiment of toys.

"Anthea stay focused!" Commanded Moriarty, eyes fixed on Sherlock.

"Sorry Jim." She giggled. Mycroft placed the trays on the table and stood watching, smiling. His old toys had come in use after all. Except, when he was younger their father had taught him political strategy with them, not how to have fun.

"John, move that flank forward!" Sherlock yelled, jumping down from the battlements to see better. Moriarty sung a similar command to Anderson.

"Very enthusiastic aren't they?" Mycroft said fondly. Anthea nodded, "Won't you join us?"

"But its uneven then." Mycroft said.

"You can take my place." Molly said, "I wanna play with the dollies."

She handed Mycroft the blue bib and sat down beside the dolls house. Soon, unexplainably, Mycroft found himself in control of a small army that was against Anthea's little tin men.

"I am so going to beat you, Sir." Anthea teased.

"no way." Mycroft grinned back.

They all got quite involved in trash talk for a while before beginning the battle on Molly's whistle. Within a few minutes all the toddlers were fighting- physically- and both adults were sitting beside each other hitting one another's shoulders playfully.

"Sir?" His butler stood in the doorway, "There is a group of men downstairs from the government."

"Oh. One moment." Mycroft stood and went to leave the nursery, but a slender hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Anthea?"

"Wait a minute sir." She giggled, "You've still got your bib on."  
>"Oh." Mycroft chuckled as she lifted it over his head. Their eyes met for a moment before she lowered hers to the ground and stepped back, cheeks fading into a light pink colour.<p>

"Thank you." He smiled, following the butler down the stairs.

"You love him." Teased Donavon from the battlefield. Anthea said nothing, just shuffled her feet, and nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

Growing up again 7

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed :D please check out my slash calendar and review this chapter? :3 haha and Nick Clegg and David Cameron are in this chapter, and in no way is this meant to represent real life :L so don't sue XD**

"Come on, gentlemen. Can't you be reasonable?" Mycroft asked, pressing his index finger and thumb on the bridge of his nose, to try and stop the throbbing agony in his mind.

The men in front of him, who had before been at each others' necks, paused to glower at him.

"But he's wrong!" Pouted Nick Clegg.

Cameron stuck out his tongue and then turned to look at Mycroft for a verdict.

Mycroft sighed. They were like the kids back home… speaking of which, why was he so anxious to go home? He… actually… missed the brats? What?

"Listen, I have to go home. I have some… paperwork to do."

"Fine." Both men said, before engaging in argument again. A secretary rolled her eyes at him before allowing him to leave.

….

Anthea had fallen asleep sitting outside in the garden. Mycroft got out the car and opened the gate to the garden with a bemused smile. She lay on the swinging chair, hair covering most of her beautiful face and arms holding herself in a tight, warming embrace. He went to wake her up then stopped himself, and looked for the children.

They were now five, and playing chase around the garden. If she had been any less perfect, Mycroft would have been angry for her carelessness.

"Hey Mycroft." Anderson greeted with a shaking of the hand. Mycroft shook it back, smiling.

"Hello Anderson. Everything alright?"

"Yes." Anderson said, glancing at Anthea. He beckoned Mycroft. The Holmes brother sighed and crouched down.

"Yes?"  
>"She likes you."<p>

Mycroft straightened and turned to look at the beauty. "She couldn't."

Anderson shuffled his feet, "But she does."

"She wouldn't. she's so…"

"Yours." Molly smiled, taking Mycroft's hand, "Just tell her how you feel!"

"I can't and I won't." Mycroft said, clearing his throat and taking a seat at the garden table. "Wake her up will you?"

Anderson and Molly scowled at him. he matched their expression. Molly retreated to Anthea, shaking her shoulder gently. Anderson kicked him in frustration before joining Lestrade and Sherlock, who were playing cops and robbers.

Donavon and James were arguing over a Barbie doll. Oh gosh. "Let the girl have the doll, James." He sighed.

"Don't be stereotypical!" snapped James, "Dolls can be for both genders!"

"Not when the girl is crying." Mycroft snapped back. James gaped at his tone before bursting into tears.

Mycroft was quite taken aback. He hadn't expected Moriarty, of all of them, to care what he treated him like.

"Come here." He said, sighing again and pulling James into his arms. The boy stopped crying almost immediately.

Anthea yawned from behind him, making him jump. She giggled as he turned around in mild rage.

"Sorry Sir. How was the meeting?"

God she was gorgeous in the sunlight. Mycroft swallowed and was about to talk when james suddenly screeched, "YOU BASTARD SHERLOCK HOLMES!" And slipped out of his arms.

The baby detective had dropped James' suit in the mud. "Why, Sherlock?" asked Mycroft, exasperated.

"Because I felt like it." Sherlock smirked. The expression was wiped off his face when Moriarty's foot collided with it.

Mycroft decided that he'd left work far too early.

**Please review :D**


	8. Chapter 8

Growing up again- 8

**Hehe happy birthday to Assasin of Rome :3 this is for you!**

**Please read and review :3**

Mycroft lay down on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. When some fell out in his hands he gave a yell, "Well that's just great! I'm MOULTING."

Anthea sat beside him and giggled, patting his shoulder. Mycroft froze. "It's alright, Sir. Stress often does that to people."

"D-Do you think they'll ever stop fighting?" Mycroft asked, gesturing to the two eight year olds in play pens hurling abuse at each other.

"Probably not." Anthea said, moving her hand back to her phone as she realised where it was. She cleared her throat, "But it doesn't matter. What we have to be worried about is the tween and teen years."

"Why?" Mycroft asked, uncrossing his legs and relaxing into the fabric.

"Don't you remember your teenage years? I do. And I was hell. Hold on… I might have a picture…" She rummaged in her bag, "Ah, here!"

She handed him a photo of a sixteen year old her. She had bright purple hair and dark makeup around her eyes, and wore a cropped red top and tight black skinny jeans. Her heels were larger then he'd ever seen her wear.

"Woah. Well, I wasn't much different." Mycroft said, "Then I am now." He shrugged, "I just had more hair."

Anthea laughed, "Oh Sir."

Mycroft smiled, doing anything to draw his attention away to the photograph, where the angel beamed without a care in the world or a phone. Suddenly, he grabbed the blackberry and threw it against the wall.

"Sir!" she yelped, trying to grab for it and whacking into him.

Anderson giggled, "aaaw you're so cute together!"  
>Mycroft lobbed a pillow at him and he squealed.<p>

John gave a war cry, "GET HIM!"

"N-no!"

Anthea laughed and joined the kids in whacking Mycroft with the plump cushions.

The phone lay broken in the corner, ignored as they chased each other and the children around the lounge, even letting Moriarty and Sherlock out of their play pens and into the chaos.

Mycroft threw Sherlock into the air and caught the boy, rubbing their noses together before he was bundled to the floor.

Anthea, who was fighting to get Donavon and Lestrade off her, laughed at him and struggled to her knees, "Sir you're so easily tack-"

Before she could finish the word 'tackled' Sherlock leapt at her and knocked her to the ground.

….

Lying, panting on the ground, Mycroft was glad Anthea had offered to put the kids to bed. Maybe he just wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. Being a dad was harder then he'd thought. Except… he wasn't a dad. And by the looks of it would never be. After all, Anthea couldn't have kids. And she was his assistant anyway, so….

"Sir?" her voice made him jump. He turned to see her with head tilted slightly, raising an eyebrow at him, "You tired?"

Mycroft chuckled and sat up, leaning against the sofa, "Aren't you?"

"Not really." She said, perching on the arm of the sofa.

"But I suppose you are younger." He smiled.

"Not that much." Anthea said quietly, "I'm only a few years younger than you Sir."

"Really?"

"Well… five or so."

"Shut up." Mycroft laughed, turning to look out the window, where the rain drizzled down the window.

"Tommorow," Anthea said, "They'll be nine. Fantastic. We can properly communicate with them."

"Oh god." Mycroft said, dreading the morning.

**Please review :D**


	9. Chapter 9

Nine

**Please review :3**

"ZOOM!" Yelled Lestrade, lifting the model aeroplane in the air and letting out a banshee- war cry.

"Boom!" Sherlock bellowed, tackling him to the ground. They both fell, giggling. "You're dead!"

"No, I fixed the engine!" Lestrade yelped, pushing him off and running away.

"BOYS IT'S FIVE IN THE MORNING!" Mycroft emerged from his bedroom.

"So?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You little bugger-" Mycroft went to strangle him and would have too, if it weren't for a very sleepy Anthea in a nightdress emerging from the other room rubbing her tired eyes and yawning.

"Hello Sir. Good morning."

Mycroft's jaw dropped. The nightdress was short, revealing her long, lean and beautiful legs- up to their thighs anyway, Anthea had more class than that- and she wore only one of his dressing-gowns over the top to keep her pretty self warm. Her hair fell over her shoulders in loose ringlets despite the fact she'd just been sleeping, and her eyes were already bright and as magnificent as usual.

"Hello Anthea." He smiled, regaining his cool composure, "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes thank you." Anthea smiled, fluttering her eyelashes innocently, "And you?"

"The little I got was quite nice." Mycroft said, "I thought that because they're six now they'd shut up in the mornings."

Anthea giggled, "I'm sure it'll be better during the day, Sir. I mean, they can read and write properly… so we could try and fob them off with some books."  
>"Not a change!" yelled Moriarty from the nursery, "GO MY WARRIORS!" Anderson and Donavon gave war cries and began the attack on Lestrade and Sherlock, who screamed and thundered down the stairs.<p>

Mycroft just sighed, "Would you be a dear and put the kettle on? I need a strong tea."

"Yes, Sir." Anthea smiled, and, tucking his dressing-gown around her petite form, followed the same path the 'warriors' had taken.

Mycroft stayed still, silent, and rested his aching head. He was too old for this. "Are they gone?" John's little voice made him turn around, a broad smile on his face.

John and Molly stood in their pyjamas, smiling sweetly and quietly, holding hands.

"Yes." He smiled.

"Sit down, then, join in out tea party." Molly smiled, taking Mycroft's hand in her other and leading him through into the nursery.

Paint covered the walls and carpet, and toys and crayons and dolls. In the middle of the room was a small wooden table, with four pastel-pink chairs and several plastic tea cups. The 'teapot' they were using was, in fact, a larger cup filled with water.

"Take a seat." John said graciously, pulling out a chair for Molly to sit her little bum on, and sitting in his own chair.

Mycroft, smirking at the ridiculous element of this experience. Molly offered 'tea', and he accepted with a grin.

When Anthea wandered upstairs with his tea and her coffee, she found one of the most gorgeous sights she'd ever had in her life.

Mycroft Holmes- the serious, calculating, 'ice-man' was sitting on a child's chair, legs crossed, hand wrapped round a plastic cup- pinky out, Anthea noted with a note of happiness, and talking politics with two six-year olds.

Molly waved Anthea over to the table, "You can sit here, next to your husband…" she sat Anthea on a chair directly next to Mycroft's, "And I'll sit here next to mine." She sat beside John, linking arms with the other boy.

"WHAT?" Sherlock and Lestrade yelled in unison, making them all jump.

"You're mine!" Sherlock said, pulling John out of the tea party and out the room.

"Oh!" the other boy said in shock.

"And i… like you." Lestrade muttered. Molly giggled and ran out, kissing Lestrade quickly on the cheek before running down the hall and leaving him speechless.

Mycroft grinned, "Someone's got a crush?" he teased.

"Shut up! Like you can talk!" Lestrade gushed, running out the room and blushing a red that was almost as vibrant as the colour Mycroft's cheeks took on.

Anthea giggled and left, calling over her shoulder that she was going to check on the kids and sipping her coffee.

…

"I love you John." Sherlock whispered, kissing John's head and leaving the wardrobe. John sat still, bewildered, blushing and giggling. He'd fallen in love all over again with the detective, and it seemed the young Sherlock felt the same way-

"I Love you too!" He called, waving his arm to try and grab Sherlock's attention.

The other boy just grinned, and smacked a gobsmacked Jim over the head harshly.

**Please review :D**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 :D

**Please review and check out my other stories :D thanks :3**

Anthea, holding Molly and Donavon's hands in hers, searched for healthy foods for the kids. "Cakes!" exclaimed Jim, who was the third child she was looking after for the moment (Mycroft was caring for the other four for an hour, then they'd meet for lunch and switch for the rest of the shopping trip).

"No." Anthea warned, "We've already got a ton of chocolate, cookies and biscuits. No cake."

"Mycroft likes cake." Molly said hopefully, twiddling her thumbs and pulling her hand away. All three pulled their best puppy-dog faces at the poor woman.

"Fine." Anthea sighed. The children cheered.

Molly grinned and threw the cake into the basket.

"Hey, bitches!" Jim yelled, backing away, "Can't catch me!"

"Challenge excepted!" Donavon yelled, chasing him into the aisles. Anthea sighed and stayed, examining the vegetables. Molly stood beside her, hand clutching at Anthea's skirt. It was then Anthea realised that Mycroft had bought them matching outfits.

Anthea wore cropped black leggings and a baby blue dress that was tight on the chest and puffed out at the waist, with matching blue ballet shoes. She wore a blue sunhat too- it was one of her favourite outfits for the summer.

Molly wore a baby blue dress of the same fashion, slightly darker leggings and blue ballet shoes. Her hair was tied in a blue bow. Donavon wore the same. Jim's Westwood summer suit- cropped trousers, waistcoat and short-sleeved t-shirt- was black and blue.

"I think we'll have some cucumbers." Anthea mused. Molly nodded and bagged four cucumbers. "Thanks." Anthea smiled, popping it into the trolley. Instead of balancing her handbag, she placed that too inside the metal frame. All of a sudden there was a hiss of anger behind her.

A woman about Anthea's age stood beside her, fuming, her hand pinching and holding viciously Jim's ear. Jim squirmed, tears running down his face, reaching for her.

"Is this brat yours!" she yelled, loud enough to drag attention from every shopper in the market.

"Jim!" Anthea exclaimed, "My son is not a brat! Now unhand him!"

"He hasn't apoligised."  
>"For what?"<p>

"He called me as bitch!"

"By the looks of it you are a bitch!" Anthea fumed, furious that this woman was insulting Moriarty, and hurting him. Donavon and Molly were hiding behind her now, sobbing with fear of the woman, "How dare you! Let my child go and stop frightening my daughters!"  
>"How dare you!" the woman lectured, "These aren't children! They're demons, victims of bad parenting!"<p>

Anthea flinched, feeling her cheeks redden.

"You must be the worst mother ever! Caring more about your clothes than your children! Look at you! Ooh la de da, designer clothes!"

Anthea tried to bumble an excuse, feeling tearful.

"When your children run havoc, screaming profanities! It's disgusting! Look at your shopping! Nothing but junk food! You people make me sick!"

Anthea felt tears of anger and embarrassment run down her face. She couldn't think of anything to say.

"And you're on your phone, too! To some sleaze bag, I'll bet!" the mother yelled. Anthea glanced at her phone, which had been left on dial.

_Mycroft. _

Read the display. Anthea felt a lump rise in her throat. He'd heard all that. Oh goodness.

"What kind of a mother are you?" the woman yelled.

Then a warm hand on Anthea's shoulder made her jump and turn around. A very calm looking Mycroft stood, staring at the woman.

"I'd appreciate it…" he said, stepping forward elegantly, "If you didn't talk to my wife like that."

The woman wasn't finished, "Oh I see! So you're a rich man's floosie! Even worse!"

Mycroft readjusted his tie and said, calmly but firmly, "If you dare talk to anyone- especially my wife- who is an excellent mother, I'll have you know- like that again I shall make sure your life is a misery. And don't think I can't do that. Now you let my son go or I shall be forced to do something."

"Who do you think you are?" the woman raged.

"I am the British Government." Mycroft said, smirking, one eyebrow raising coolly. The woman, not sure what to do, dropped Jim and scurried off.

Anthea tried not to swoon.

…

"That was brilliant!" Anthea said over her coffee, grinning. Her eyes were red from where she'd been crying, but apart from that she was back to her bubbly, elegant self.

Mycroft, who had propped his umbrella up neatly beside his seat as always, just smiled as a response, sipping his tea. He turned to watch the kids play in the park just outside the café, then returned his gaze to Anthea, who was now laughing.

"I bet she'll think twice before assaulting another poor woman's child! Ha ha!"

Neither felt the need to mention the family sense they had. Because, in a way, they were a family.

A loud, messy, dysfunctional, crazy family.

And Mycroft couldn't think of anything better.

**Please review x **


	11. Chapter 11

Growing up again- 11!

**Please review, I'm sorry for the delay, I've been busying away for my GCSEs :L **

**I am aware the childrens' ages seemed to have changed more than theys should throughout the fic, and I can confirm they are in fact seven in this chapter, and will grow up normally from now on :L **

Anthea smiled as Lestrade brushed Molly's hair, a deep look of concentration on his face. "Is that ok?"

"Yes."  
>"Am I hurting you?"<p>

"No."

"Sure?"

"Yes!" Molly giggled, "Just brush, man."

"Ok." Lestrade smiled sweetly, blushing slightly. Anthea shook her head in bemusement.

"BANG!" Anderson and John thundered in the room, each wielding a toy gun and shooting at each other madly.

Donavon was teaching Jim how to dress Barbie like a lady, "Not, a slut."

Jim, who's doll was dressed in a mini skirt and tube top, insisted that "If you've got the body, flaunt it!"

"Good idea!" Sherlock, who had been spying, exclaimed, and he grabbed Jim under the arms and dragged him off, "Let's flaunt it."

"Um… sir?" Anthea said, turning to look at Mycroft over her shoulder, "I think Sherlock is harass-ing…. Jim?" the reason her sentence had faltered at the end, however, was the sight before her now.

Mycroft had fallen asleep on his work. How cute! Anthea smiled and removed the documents from underneath him, replacing them with a pillow. Her boss smiled in his slumber and nuzzled into the soft material, a small snore emerging from his lips. She smiled and smoothed out his suit for him, gently, and straightened his hair.

"Aaaw." John smiled, "I guess even Mycroft gets sleepy sometimes."

Anthea couldn't stop the smile on her face.

"Tomorrow we'll be eight." John said, sitting down at her feet, "And bigger."

"Yep." She grinned, "Now, I better go check on the two… hooligans."

John nodded in agreement, "I'll come too."

The sight in front of them was enough to make them both fall into hysterics. Jim sat there, glowering, wearing what looked like one of the girls' dresses, his hair in two pigtails on either side of his head, makeup smudged over his face. Sherlock stood there, laughing too, holding him down.

After giving themselves a moment to calm themselves, Anthea freed Jim and Scolded Sherlock, but half-heartedly.

As she wiped his face gently with a makeup wipe, Jim started to cry, and Anthea felt sorry that she had laughed, "I'm sorry little one. Don't cry, its not that bad."  
>"It's really embarrassing." Jim mumbled, tugging at the dress, "And I can't get rid of it!" the seven year old's eyes welled with tears again, and Anthea hugged him.<p>

"Here." She removed the dress and slipped him into his usual attire, "Don't worry. It'll all be over soon."

Jim sat there, frowning, after she left, wondering why that thought made him so sad.

Mycroft awoke with a start, gasping. As he smoothed out his hair and tried to look presentable, Lestrade sat down beside him and said, calmly and sweetly, "Anthea thinks you look cute when you're asleep."

"What?" Mycroft asked, blinking in surprise.

"That's why we weren't allowed to wake you up." Lestrade said, before glancing down at the stuff on the desk, "Is this top secret government stuff?"

"Yes-"

"Cool!" Anderson exclaimed, grabbing a wad of the papers.

Mycroft was too distracted to stop him. Anthea thought he was… cute? Mycroft hoped he wasn't blushing. The kids might tell on him.

They were eight tomorrow. And none of them could know what was going to happen next.

**Please review, and check out my other stories :D**

**Plus, my friend Courtster writes really good glee stories :D you should check them out too! **


	12. Chapter 12

Growing up again- 12 :D

**I am so sorry for the late update- please review :3**

"Mycroft?"

_No. Please don't make this be happening._

"Mycroft!"

_It's three in the morning. Please leave me alone._

"Mycroft!"

_Please stop shaking me. I don't want to deal with it._

"Mikey!"

"Owch!"

That woke Mycroft up. The blow had been delivered on the back of his head by a rock-solid little hand, and really hurt. "What do you want?!" Mycroft turned in anger, and was surprised immensely to see a teary-eyed Jim standing by the bed. Now eight, all the children were beginning to look more like themselves, and it seemed with this year Moriarty had gained the same look in his eye Mycroft was used to. However, the tears prevented further examination of this.

"I…" the child trailed off. He looked around the darkness nervously then said, in a hushed tone and leaning in closer, "I have a problem."

Mycroft groaned and sat up, taking in the boy properly. He stood in spaceship pjs and bunny slipper, tired and upset. He realised the 'problem' immediately. The boy's trousers were soaked through with what Mycroft guessed was urine.

"Help me change my bed?" Jim begged, "I don't want Sherlock to see."

Mycroft's anger subsided, "Yes, of course. Let me get you some clean pyjamas first." He stood and, stretching, went to the cupboard. Anthea, the saint, had filled it with clothes for children of all ages, and he withdrew some pyjamas for the boy. Jim thanked him and scurried off.

Sighing, Mycroft crept into the bedroom- avoiding Sherlock's booby trap by the door- and changed the sheets. "I shouldn't have to deal with this…" he hissed under his breath, "I am not a father I am…"

And then, with a heart-wrenching realisation, Mycroft realised he wished he was. He didn't mind the drama. He didn't mind the hours. He didn't mind any of that. He felt so… at home, even having to carry sodden sheets across the house and to deal with constant fights. This was right.

When Anthea came in, dreary eyes and in a night dress, that felt right to. Mycroft felt confusion run through him, and he turned to her, "Sorry, go back to sleep, its ok."

Jim appeared from through her legs and leapt into his bed, blushing furiously.

"You have yet to pay me overtime sir." Anthea smiled. She didn't mind, of course, and she winked as Mycroft rolled his eyes, passing her in the hall. She shut the door quietly behind her and smiled at him.

"At least they're cute when they're asleep." She said.

A screech from the next room assured them that she was wrong. John was having a nightmare, thrashing his little body around in the bed Sherlock had snuck into and punching both the holmes and Anderson whose bed was on the otherside. Both other boys made a similarly annoying noise and leapt out of bed, disturbing the girls on one side and Lestrade and Jim on the other, who all began to fuss.

Mycroft's expression dropped, and Anthea's followed suit.

"I really need to be restrained from strangling them all." Mycroft said, before rolling up his sleeves and opening the door.

"Let's do this." Anthea announced.

….

"If I was a star…" Molly said, "I would be… that one!" She threw her body back onto the bean bag, using one little finger to point to a constellation on the wall.

"If I was a star…" Lestrade said, "I would be… this one." He pointed gently to the one next to hers.

"I'd be this one." Sherlock said, pointing to the star. The others rolled their eyes.

"We meant star stars!" Molly pouted.

"It is a star star!" Sherlock argued.

"Children, it is far too early for science arguments." Mycroft said, placing his head on his arms on the table in frustration. Anthea placed coffee beside his sleeping head and sat beside him, not able yet to speak. They had been up eight hours with all of the children, and so neither had found the ability to function properly yet.

As he caught her tired eye, Mycroft realised he didn't care. This was perfect anyway.

**Please review **


	13. Chapter 13

Growing up again :3

**I am so sorry for the slow update- please accept this chapter as my apology. Thank you to all the lovely reviews, and please leave more they encourage me :) Please enjoy- the kids are nine now!**

Dr. John Watson was a fully qualified army doctor. He had saved many a life and taken a fair few as well. He was loyal, brave and a good friend. And he couldn't reach the kettle.

Sighing in frustration, the nine year old pushed a kitchen chair over to the counter top and hopped onto it, filling the kettle at the sink. When he was satisfied there was enough for himself, Sherlock, Mycroft and Anthea, he placed it back on its holder and pressed boil. He then filled four mugs with the appropriate ingredients- A tea bag and various sugar amounts. Though Sherlock would rarely admit it, he enjoyed his teas sweet with plenty of milk- as John did- and he did especially now he was nine.

The kitchen was the only occupied room in the house. Anthea and he were alone in its peace, and the others had gone with Mycroft to the park. They would be home any moment now- they could hear Donavon's singing from inside. John had not wanted to go outside in the cold to go play some mildy entertaining game, so he had remained in the warmth of the house, and watched Star Wars with Anthea instead. "These are not the droids you're looking for" was playing in the background as John caught sight of Anderson thundering down the road towards the house, leading the pack that was soon to follow.

Donavon and Jim, both clad in denim dungarees and a purple t-shirt, swiftly followed, both belting out Britney lyrics for some unknown reason. Next he could see Lestrade, walking along peacefully and pointing out interesting cars on the way, whom was followed by Molly, who was trying not to step on the cracks, and Sherlock, who was rolling his eyes at her. They in turn were followed by a very suicidal looking Mycroft.

"I suppose I better let them in then," Anthea said mock-sadly, tutting and opening the door. John smiled and finished the teas- making sure Anthea could watch him from the hall. Donavon burst into the hallway and kicked off her boots, smiling mischievously before thudding off into some other part of the house. Jim placed his shoes neatly by the pile before turning to Anthea, "It's quite fun to be able to act like a child and not get stared at."

Anthea smiled- she supposed it would. You would be able to completely act on urges and not have to worry too much about the consequences. She tried to remember what she had been like at their age. She had always been a serious child, except when it came to playtime at school- in every other circumstance she was as silent as the lambs.

She then tried to imagine what Mycroft would have been like as a child. She found, for some reason, even the idea of the man as a child was terribly amusing. When Mycroft got to the door and she was laughing, she had to excuse herself and go have her tea with John. Shrugging, Mycroft followed the kids into the kitchen and thanked John with a pat on the head.

Sherlock hugged John- who was shorter than him even now- and took his mug from the side, leading the blond to the table where they sat and chatted about what had happened at the park- Sherlock being excited despite himself and John being eager to listen to his friend. Or was it boyfriend? Anthea wasn't sure- they were very flirty towards each other normally, but now it was increasing at a steady rate since they had become children. John was laughing at something Sherlock had said- and she had never seen the detective look so overjoyed when he saw John break into laughter. His eyes were shining with affection and compassion for the other boy. It was a lovely sight to see.

Mycroft seemed to have noticed this, as he nudged them closer together, claiming that they needed to fit more people at the table, plonking Lestrade on a newly brought up chair. Lestrade looked a little confused- he had been brushing Molly's hair, not wanting a seat- but he digressed and pulled her onto the one next to himself- and continued to run the brush through her soft locks. "You're so pretty." He mumbled, to which both Molly and Anthea aaawed.

Mycroft briefly debated saying the same thing to Anthea, but decided against it on the grounds that he was an adult, not an adorable nine year old.

**Please review :D**


End file.
